


bad habits

by switchblade



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Minor Injuries, ellie keeps fidgeting with her switchblade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 07:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15165974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/switchblade/pseuds/switchblade
Summary: Ellie's a hyperactive kid, Joel knows this. While she can't help but fidget, he wishes she'd be a bit more mindful about what she's fidgeting with.





	bad habits

**Author's Note:**

> i kept thinking about how often ellie must have cut her fingers whenever she fiddled with her knife, and tbh im still wondering

Ellie had a few bad habits. Some of these things included jumping into puddles and complaining about soggy socks, or blowing raspberries in the middle of a silenced corridor and scaring the living shit out of Joel. All of them being mindless and impulsive, Joel can’t exactly blame her. She was a hyperactive kid that walked god knows how many miles a day with no one but a quiet old man to keep her company.

“Wanna hear a joke?” she’d say, after around 4 hours of silence from Joel and bored from trying to entertain herself with swords (sticks) and sniper rifles (also sticks).

“Not in particular.” he’d reply. 

“Party pooper.” Would be what she responded with, before whipping out her joke book and repeating a joke they both had heard at least 9 different times over the past 3 weeks. He didn’t comment on that though, and neither did she. 

By far though the worst habit Ellie had was her fidgeting. This normally wasn’t a problem - her twiddling her fingers, or the occasional hand flap or wrist snap. It only became a problem when her knife got involved. She’d take out her switchblade and just...mess with it, like it was an average toy. Flip the blade in and out, try and twirl it between two fingers, or - the worst one - balance it between her hands, with one finger on the base and one on the sharp point.

Joel began to notice this more often when he’d find her bandage wraps had corners cut off when she went to use them. Of course he’d told her to stop, that they didn’t need to waste bandages, that she was going to seriously hurt herself, that really - Ellie - stop that. These disapproving comments were usually met with a tongue stuck out at him, or if it was a bad day, a subtle flip of the bird when she went to rub her nose. Each of these were paired with an “I’m fine”.

Once again though he couldn’t exactly blame her; she was abundant with energy and had no release. In one instance of a rather bad finger cut, he offered to hold her knife for her. The somber “No. It’s mine, I can take care of it.” she gave him as a response was enough for him to just close his mouth and nod. 

There was a part of him that hated this - hated it so much. It was a part of him that wanted to take that knife and chuck it into the woods as far as he could. Even if she couldn’t stop fidgeting, he could take away the finger cuts and shredded bandages. There was the other part of him that was too tired and depressed to acknowledge this hatred.

He never said “I told you so”, or gave her any side glances whenever he’d hear that familiar hiss of pain and turn to see her sucking her index finger. Instead he’d ask if she was alright, she’d say yes, and they’d be back on their way.

The instance in which it became apparent that it had gone on far and long enough was one night during fall, where Joel woke to the sounds of sniffling and a backpacked being messed with. He’d sat up bleary eyed and looked to his left, and found Ellie sitting upright with her eyes blotched red and the contents of her backpack strewn around the grass, a line of blood dripping down the length of her thumb. She didn’t look him in the eye.

“...Forgot I was out of wraps,” she said, and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie, “my bad. I’m fine.”

Joel, now very awake, fully sat up and pulled his backpack close to him. Opening it, he pulled out one of his own pack of bandages and gestured for Ellie to come closer. She didn’t, and instead stayed where she was, staring at the ground in front of her, a scowl adorning her face.

He shook his head, turned his body to face her, and scooted closer. “Stubborn kid.” he mumbled, with a coughed laugh at the end. Ellie’s grimace turned into a smirk for a mere moment, then switched back. “Hold out your hand,” he asked, and after letting out a sigh, Ellie extended her arm.

Joel whistled gently, saying “You got yourself good this time, didn’t you,” as he looked at the rather deep gash in her right thumb. Taking his bandages, he came up with an idea. “Tell you what,” he began, “how ‘bout I teach you something you’re gonna find real handy?” Ellie looked at him quizzically, before saying, “Aaaaand what would that be?”

Joel took her hand and placed the edge of the bandage along the length of her finger, turning it around and wrapping the whole thing in a thin layer before tearing the end off. “You see,” he started to explain, as he moved the bandages to the right and began to do the same to her index finger, “you use alotta bandages tryin’ to patch yourself up; you keep cutting ends off and using them to stop the bleeding. That’s smart, and I commend you for that, but ultimately - seeing as how you don’t quit - it’s wasteful.”

He continued, both in speaking and wrapping her fingers, “Now, I say if you wrap yourself up ahead of time, you’ll avoid cutting yourself up to begin with and we’ll have a lot less of these all chopped up.” He finished.

The next minute was spent in silence as he finished putting a layer on the rest of her fingers, Ellie watching the entire time. When he was done, he held up her hand and made a show of turning it in each direction. “Now you look like one of your comic book people.” He said. Ellie smiled wide, taking her hand back and stifling a laugh. “That’s cool,” she said, but her left hand tapped the ground a bit, giving away her excitement.

Joel smiled, “I suggest you do the same with your other hand before you go to sleep.”

The next day as they walked he would occasionally look behind him, and find her twirling her switchblade in silence, all ten fingers completely wrapped. She smiled and stuck her tongue out at him, saying, “I’m fine.”


End file.
